A woman in a red tracksuit kicks a deflated football against a wall in an empty lot and says, “Was it abandoned because it was deflated? Or did it deflate because it was abandoned? Am I living like this because I am like this? Or am I like this because I live like this?” Like her name, ‘Miji’, she ‘does not know yet’. Miji’s (Park Bo-young) existential wandering, which repeats because she cannot yet know, ultimately leads to comparison and self-reproach. Thinking of her twin sister Mirae (Park Bo-young), who diligently accumulated the skills society demands, she mutters, “Yes, it’s my fault… it’s my fault I’m deflated” and chides herself. Miji’s monologue, which at first glance seems like mere grumbling, contains fundamental questions. Is an individual’s life a matter of predetermined structure and environment from birth? Or is it a matter of personal agency and ability? The drama <Unknown Seoul> brings these questions to mind again in the era of neoliberalism’s endless competition. Writer Lee Kang reflects the existential pain experienced by individuals in a neoliberal society and the spirit of the times in this drama. A ghost is haunting South Korea. The ghost of ‘survivalism’.
“Your age now is the last time to sow seeds”
In a society of endless competition, people are driven to continuously manage and develop themselves to survive. Survivalism, which emerged in a neoliberal society, does not simply mean biological survival. “Neoliberal survival is a ‘metaphor’. What semantically opposes it is no longer death but ‘elimination’ in a competitive situation. Neoliberal survival does not mean maintaining life but rather not being pushed out of various forms of competition and entering a small, selected category” (「Survivalist Modernity」, Kim Hong-jung, Ieum, 2024, p. 208).
Miji’s existential wandering also stems from the fear of elimination, akin to psychological death. Labelled as ‘thirty’, Miji is a concern for her family and the people of Duson-ri village. She maintains a life as a ‘professional short-term contractor’ by helping with school cleaning, supermarket work, and farming. To Miji, who is busy living day by day, people constantly nag. Today, it’s the turn of Vice Principal Yeom Bun-hong (Kim Sun-young), who is also Miji’s neighbour, to give her a lecture. “I’m saying this because I really think of you as my daughter, so don’t take it the wrong way. Thirty is by no means a late age, but it’s not that early either. … Right now is the last time to sow seeds. If you don’t plant anything now, what will you harvest during the busy farming season later?” Bun-hong continues her nagging, pointing out that Miji seems not to understand her profound metaphor of life as farming. “It’s the age to make decisions rather than explore careers, thirty is.” Bun-hong’s nagging vividly shows the pressure that the culture of survivalism exerts on individuals. A busy society does not allow time to truly know or rediscover oneself. Lawyer Hosoo (Park Jin-young), who worked at a famous law firm, also forgot himself while living according to the rules for the group’s benefit. “When something bothers me, I act like a kid with a stone in their shoe,” Hosoo belatedly realises that he was gradually compromising his beliefs for the company’s benefit. With a wry smile, Hosoo says, “Does it make sense that I don’t know or forget myself? But that’s what happened, all this time.”
Living as Each Other
Mirae, who has walked the path of an elite since childhood, also finds her life exhausting. Mirae’s rightful whistleblowing at a financial corporation in Seoul turns into unjust ostracism against her. Instead of confronting workplace harassment, Mirae silently endures it. To not betray her family’s expectations and to pay for her grandmother’s nursing care, Mirae does what she does best: endure. Having learned a little about Mirae’s struggles to endure alone in Seoul, Miji decides to live Mirae’s life instead. Thus begins their ‘living each other’s life’ experiment.
Their life swap crosses socially demarcated boundaries such as city and countryside, Seoul and provinces, regular and irregular employment. Miji and Mirae experience firsthand the anxieties, wounds, social views, and discrimination each faces in their respective positions, and only then do they truly understand each other’s lives. Furthermore, by experiencing another’s life, they objectify themselves and escape the vicious cycle of self-reproach and self-blame. After her grandmother suffered a stroke, Miji, who had long blamed herself, realises as Mirae, “I only realised by becoming someone else that my greatest enemy was myself.” Thus, Miji and Mirae let go of the countless days they harshly treated themselves for being who they are. Miji and Mirae’s narrative offers a path for modern individuals, who have become their own greatest enemies in a survivalist culture, to understand and heal themselves through the lives of others.
From Survival to Coexistence
<Unknown Seoul> also reflects the survivalism of the ‘Nukalhyeop’ era (a neologism meaning “Did someone threaten you with a knife?”). Nukalhyeop satirically reveals the reality of an era of individual survival and extreme personal responsibility logic, meaning “Did someone force you to do that?” or “Did someone make you do it, or did you do it on your own?” This phrase briefly appears in <Unknown Seoul>. Sejin (Ryu Kyung-soo), a novice farmer who took over his grandfather’s strawberry field after leaving city life, faces the exclusivity of rural life. While Miji shows the hardships of city life by unexpectedly living in Seoul, Sejin shows that returning to farming is not easy either. Despite being recommended by village residents to farm organically, Sejin’s strawberry harvest last year was less than three boxes. The very resident who recommended organic farming threatens Sejin, saying, “Did I threaten you with a knife to farm organically?”
<Unknown Seoul> diagnoses the spirit of the times in Korean society and the survivalism deeply embedded in daily life, capturing the existential pain of young people living within it. However, the drama does not stop there but goes further to explore possibilities beyond. ‘Unknown Seoul’, new to city life and work, is a space filled with anxiety because it is unknown what to do, but the future that does not come yet is also a space of possibility and hope. Miji, who has long been unable to cross the threshold, overcomes anxiety by repeating a magical phrase today. “Yesterday is over, tomorrow is still far, and today is still unknown.” <Unknown Seoul> is an unknown journey to rediscover the true meaning of life in a society where survival has become the goal.
